


When the Soul begins to crack

by justanothermaniac



Series: Twin Flames: It was bound to happen [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Animal Abuse, Child Abuse, Child Murder, Childhood, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Self-Harm, Sibling Incest, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, Violent Thoughts, this is gonna be a wild ride folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 15:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20438435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothermaniac/pseuds/justanothermaniac
Summary: There's an itch that wasn't there before, a desire. It grows over the years, builds up until both of them are ready to collapse from trying to hold it in.





	When the Soul begins to crack

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, I am on a ROLL lately. There's so much stuff waiting in my drafts, I swear. I just hope I'll finish everything in time.
> 
> This one wasn't planned to become a series, however, the thing got so fucking LONG that I had to split it. I'm sooo excited cuz this idea has been building in my mind for literally half a fucking year and I finally got to focus on it it and YAY EXCITEMENT.
> 
> Mind the tags. This gets dark, very fucking dark. Also fluffy as fuck but like I said in the tags, it's gonna be fucking wild. Or at least I hope so. We'll basically see the twins growing up and maybe even wreaking havoc in Gotham later on. Woop! 
> 
> Song lyrics are from "Voice in Me" by Saint Asonia and "Love and War" by Fleurie. Idk, those are two of my favorite songs EVER and they just fit so well.
> 
> I really do hope you enjoy this one and stay tuned for part 2. Maybe even part 3 and 4. We'll see.
> 
> Much love to you guys!! Please leave a comment. 💙

* * *

_**I know that you're hurt**_

_ **Your cries are so loud** _

_ **One day I'll be the one** _

_ **To make you proud** _

* * *

Jeremiah is only four years old and yet, he knows that he and Jerome love each other just a little too much.

He doesn't give it much thought most of the time. After all, being with Jerome, being as close as humanly possible to Jerome is the only joy in life he's ever had. Why would he question that?

He loves cuddling up to Jerome at night, feeling Jerome's hand in his hair. He loves feeling Jerome's lips against his own, his breath at his ear when he whispers _"I love you, Miah"_ just because he feels like it.  
It makes him feel warm and happy. Jerome makes him feel warm and happy.

But sometimes, he does think about it.

They're standing behind the trailer, where several kids are playing ball on the grass. Jerome is grasping Jeremiah's hand tightly as they watch. The other kids don't cuddle, Jeremiah can't help but notice. They don't kiss either. They shove each other and throw the balls at each other's heads, laughing crookedly when one of them starts to cry.

Jeremiah leans more into Jerome's space. He feels like he's watching animals in the wild, he's bizarrely fascinated but cautious at the same time. Jeremiah really doesn't feel like playing with them. And he doesn't think the others feel like it either. The only other child that ever interacts with them is Brandon, and he's mean. 

Jerome turns his head and kisses his cheek. "I'm sure mommy's friend is gonna leave soon", he whispers reassuringly and Jeremiah hopes he's right. Mommy doesn't want them inside when she has a friend over. 

Jeremiah feels a dull pain against his temple. He stumbles back a little, his glasses getting knocked from his face. "Miah!", he hears Jerome yell, can feel his gentle hands on his cheeks. Jeremiah tries to see, but his vision is blurry and starting to swim even more as tears gather in his eyes. It doesn't hurt, not really, but the hit of the ball surprised him.

He rubs at his eyes with his sleeve. "Jerome", he whispers, his free hand reaching out, finding his brother's shirt and grasping it. "My glasses, where -?"

"Lookin' for these, Strawberry Shortcake?", a mean voice sneers. Jeremiah tenses up.

Brandon Simmons is two years older than the twins and for some reason, he really hates Jeremiah. The younger Valeska doesn't know what he did but Brandon takes every opportunity he gets to call Jeremiah mean names, or shove him. One time, he even spilled a bucket of cold water on Jeremiah's head. The twins were only three then.

When Jerome is there with him, he always snarls at Brandon and pushes Jeremiah behind him, but Brandon is a head taller than them and much stronger. He's not afraid of Jerome.

But Jerome is not afraid of Brandon either. "Give 'em back, asshat", he hisses and Jeremiah wonders where he's heard that new bad word from. Jerome knows many bad words, most of them from their uncle, but this one is new.

Jeremiah tugs at his brother's shirt, wanting him closer, but Jerome pats his cheek, a silent way of saying _give me a second. _Jeremiah follows him with his gaze, but is only able to make out a blur of red and green and some distant, grey blurs that are Brandon and the other children.

Brandon cackles. "Look at that, the tomato head wants to help his little clone!", he coos and Jeremiah's heart stings at the laughter he draws from the other children. "Tell me, clone number one, if I stomp on these right now, what's gonna happen? Ya think clone number two could still draw those stupid lines of his?"

_They're not lines, they're mazes,_ Jeremiah thinks bitterly, his stomach twisting into a tight knot. It would take forever to find him new glasses and Mommy would be so angry at them for not taking better care. Mommy hates it when they break things. Mommy always blames Jerome when something breaks.

"You wouldn't dare", Jerome says, his voice shaking a little from how angry he is. Jeremiah decides to sit down, since standing without really seeing anything is making him a little antsy.

"Awww, the little baby can't even stay on his _feet_ when clone number one isn't holding his hand!", Brandon spews out. Jeremiah twists his fingers, not replying. He never replies to any of the mean things Brandon says to him. But sometimes, they cut deep. "What's the matter, clone number two? Cat got your tongue?"

"Leave him alone and gimme the glasses, _now",_ Jerome orders in a thin voice. Jeremiah doesn't think he's ever heard Jerome's voice sound like that before. It's a little scary.

Brandon laughs, loud and hysterical. "Why is it your brother's always doin' the talkin' for ya, Strawberry Shortcake? Ya dumb or somethin'? I knew you're a freak but a _dumb freak,_ that's gotta be tough."

_Dumb Freak._ Jeremiah flinches, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, not just because they're starting to burn from the blurriness. He hears more laughter from the other kids.

When Jerome starts talking again, his voice is eerily sweet all of a sudden. "Brandon, I'm warning you. Another word and you're gonna cry for your daddy." Jeremiah's skin prickles a little at the threat and tone. _This is...new._

Brandon only laughs louder. "Oh yeah? What are _you_ gonna do, lobster boy?"

Jerome says nothing. For a long moment, the silence drapes itself around Jeremiah like a cold blanket. 

Then, the other kids start shouting, some of the girls screech so loud that it makes Jeremiah's ears hurt. He winces when he hears rapid footsteps as they call for their parents and Jeremiah's heart starts beating hard and fast. _What's happening?_

Brandon isn't laughing anymore. Jeremiah can faintly hear him cry and beg, _daddy, daddy, help, daddy, please, _making him wonder what in the world Jerome is doing. 

His twin is the one laughing now. Although, it's more like a giggle, giddy and excited, but unlike any sound Jeremiah has ever heard coming from him. He really wishes he could see what is going on but at the same time, he's glad that he doesn't. 

Brandon is still crying when the giggling stops. Jeremiah feels a hand in his hair and opens his eyes. He blinks several times when his brother gently puts his glasses on him. "There we go, baby bro."

Jeremiah re-ajusts them before looking at Jerome crouching before him. He's smiling at Jeremiah, warm and honest, making his chest bubble with warmth. "Thank you, Jerome!" He hugs him, tightly, putting all the gratitude he feels into it.

Jerome giggles fondly. "Hang on, _Brandon_ wants to tell ya somethin'." He grabs Jeremiah's hand and pulls him with. The younger twin only now notices that Jerome's fingers are red and a little sticky.

_Blood._

_Blood? _

Brandon is cowering on the floor, crying into his hands. By the looks of it, Jerome used his tiny fists to absolutely ruin his face.

Jeremiah blinks rapidly several times. _Jerome did that? _His stomach does a weird flip. 

"Weeell?", Jerome coos, kicking Brandon in the lower back. He whimpers. "What did'cha wanna tell my brother, _Bran the Man?"_

Jeremiah tilts his head in confusion. Brandon sobs, not looking up. Jeremiah is a little grateful. He has a feeling he wouldn't want to see what his face looks like right now.

But at the same time, he's dying of curiosity, almost hoping for Brandon to lift his hands from his face. _What is this? _

"I'm...s-sorry...Je-Jerem-miah..!", he forces out, his voice thick with tears. Jeremiah has never heard Brandon sound so small. His voice is usually loud and crumbling, making Jeremiah want to curl into a ball and hide. Now, he just sounds scared. Scared and broken, just like Jeremiah feels so often.

A strange sensation starts to spread over his skin. He thinks it's excitement but no, something's different. It's...

<strike> _He deserves this._ </strike>

The thought shocks Jeremiah and he immediately tears his gaze from Brandon to look at his brother instead. Jerome giggles and crouches down. "There's a good boy!", he says sweetly, running a hand through Brandon's thick black hair, making him flinch. "Oh, and..."

He grips a fistful of Brandon's hair, prompting Jeremiah to jump. He leans in close, close enough that his lips are grazing Brandon's earlobe. Jeremiah can see the way the older boy tenses up at the contact. "I'm sick and tired of you shithead coming after him", Jerome hisses, tightening his grip in Brandon's hair, "Make sure to tell your shithead friends too. Hurt my Miah, and I will hurt _you."_

Jeremiah's stomach feels unbearably hot when he hears that. His pulse starts to quicken and his heartbeat doubles in speed.

* * *

They're laying in bed later that evening, facing each other. Jeremiah's hand is lightly resting on Jerome's stomach under his shirt, the ugly bruise that's even bigger than his hand radiating heat.

Mommy and Uncle Zack got really mad at Jerome for beating up Brandon. They didn't even want to hear _why_ he did it. Mommy slapped him in the face and when he tumbled to the floor, Uncle Zack started kicking him until he cried. All Jeremiah could do was watch and cry along with his twin.

Just thinking about it now makes Jeremiah's chest hurt. He keeps pressing kisses to Jerome's nose and the corners of his mouth. Jerome giggles a little, wincing at the jolt of pain through his stomach. Jeremiah feels the twitch of his twin's flesh under his hand. "That tickles", Jerome whispers.

"Sorry", Jeremiah replies sheepishly, closing his eyes and pressing his lips into a thin line.

Jerome grunts a little, bumping his nose against Jeremiah's. "Didn't say ya could stop." Jeremiah giggles, blinking his eyes open again. He proceeds with the sweet pecks to his twin's face, prompting a happy little hum. "Can you move Cayenne a little though? He's tickling my chin."

Cayenne, the stuffed cat Jerome got him for their fourth birthday, is safely tucked against Jeremiah's chest. He gulps, feeling his cheeks heating up. "No..."

"Why not?"

Jeremiah tightens his one-armed hold around the stuffed cat. "Cayenne...he..." He noses at Cayenne's fur. "He wants to be close to you..."

Jerome is quiet for a long moment. "He does, huh?", he whispers and Jeremiah gulps again.

He clutches tightly at Cayenne's belly. "He hates it when you get hurt." The younger twin moves away from Jerome a little to bury his face in Cayenne's fur. "He hates it that I never help", Jeremiah somewhat admits, feeling his eyes sting with tears, nuzzling deeper into Cayenne. 

Jerome is quiet for a moment before he hums in thought. "Cayenne is a dummy", he eventually says matter-of-factly, prompting Jeremiah to look up at him with wide, slightly offended eyes. "Why?"

Jerome looks at him like the answer is absolutely obvious. "You _are_ helping. You're helping right now." He reaches out, poking Jeremiah's nose. "Looking at your cute little face helps." He pokes Jeremiah's left cheek with a grin. "I love your cute little face."

Jeremiah's face feels much, much hotter all of a sudden. He lifts Cayenne a little more, his words muffled by Cayenne's fur. "We have the same face...", he tries to protest but Jerome shakes his head. 

"Nah. Yours is cuter." He says it like it's an undeniable fact, wrapping one arm loosely around Jeremiah's waist. "As long as I get to cuddle with ya afterwards, they can hurt me all they want, Miah."

Jeremiah's heart flutters. He lowers Cayenne a little again, pressing his forehead in the crook of his twin's neck. "You didn't have to do that to Brandon", he whispers, a pleasant shiver running down his spine when he feels Jerome's lips against the top of his head.

"Yeah, I did."

Brandon doesn't bully Jeremiah anymore. In fact, he doesn't even come near the twins anymore. The other children don't either.

Jeremiah knows he and Jerome love each other just a little too much. And he finds that he wouldn't have it any other way. So, what's the point in thinking about it?

* * *

He can't even remember the first time Jerome kissed him on the mouth.

They're six years old now and as far as Jeremiah can recall, they've always done that. They kiss each other good morning, they kiss each other good night. Sometimes Jerome will just randomly jump him, shower Jeremiah's whole face with kisses before pressing their lips together. Jeremiah likes to surprise Jerome, he'll press a quick peck to his lips with a giggle and then run away so Jerome has to chase after him.

Uncle Zack doesn't like it when they kiss. He'll scowl at them, or roll his eyes, but then Mom flicks his forehead, or hits him.

She thinks it's cute. "They're still so little", she says, taking a pull from her cigarette. "It's normal. We were like that too, Zacky. Remember?" Uncle Zack just grunts, gulping down the rest of his beer. 

Jeremiah's face scrunches up at the thought. It's weird, he thinks, that Mom compares him and Jerome to her and Uncle Zack. Mom and Uncle Zack don't really spend time together and when they do, they just drink. They don't hug or cuddle or kiss, they don't even talk much. They just drink and smoke. They're nothing like Jerome and him.

But her words make him fear that maybe, one day, the two of them _will_ end up like Mom and Uncle Zack. His stomach churns at the thought.

He tells Jerome one day as they're laying on their backs on the roof of the trailer, watching the stars. The older twin turns his head and looks at him like he's insane. "You and me? Turn into _them?" _He giggles, shaking his head as he props himself up on his elbows. "Never gonna happen. Also because you're _way_ prettier than Mom."

Jeremiah blushes darkly at that, shoving at Jerome's shoulder. "Who says I'm her in this? Why would you wanna be Uncle Zack?"

"Why would _you_ wanna be Uncle Zack?", Jerome fires back, grinning. "He's the big brother, I'm the big brother. It's that simple."

"You're only older by thirteen minutes!"

"Which means you're younger by thirteen minutes. My sweet, adorable little baby brother, awww, look at you ~", Jerome coos in a baby voice, squishing Jeremiah's flushed cheeks. He snickers when Jeremiah angrily bats his hands away and moves to straddle him, pinning Jerome's wrists next to his head. "Shut _up,_ Jerome!" 

He could easily break out of the grip. He doesn't want to. He's grinning up at Jeremiah obnoxiously and wiggles his eyebrows. "Make meee ~", he sings and Jeremiah bites his lip to keep himself from giggling.

He leans down, pressing his lips to Jerome's, knowing _very_ well that it's the only way to ever shut him up.

Not that either of them is complaining. And when he releases Jerome's wrists and his hands come up to slide in Jeremiah's hair, the younger twin thinks that, no, they'll definitely not end up like their mother and uncle.

* * *

Jeremiah likes seeing adults kiss. He'll watch them from one of their favorite hiding spots sometimes, a few feet away from the entrance to the big top, behind the supply wagon. It makes Jerome giggle. "Little creep", he'll say sweetly before tackling Jeremiah and tickling him mercilessly, revenge for not paying attention to him. 

He's not a creep. He's really not. He just thinks it's beautiful. There's been countless couples at the circus, men with women, men with men, women with women. Jeremiah knows love comes in different forms. It's one of the only things Mom has ever explained to them.

They were four and for the first time, she had a friend over that wasn't a man. "Love is about wanting to make someone happy", she's told them with a smile. She smiled more often back then. "It's not always a man and a woman."

Jeremiah thinks about this when he sees people kiss. Its different when Mom kisses someone. He doesn't like that. He thinks about her words and how much sense they make but it doesn't match when she kisses someone.

But he loves watching the couples that come to the circus. He takes in how their eyes sparkle when they look at each other, how their lips slowly pull into a smile once they lean in, as if the other held the whole sun in their hands.

Its the same way Jerome looks at Jeremiah. And Jeremiah is certain he looks at Jerome that way too.

It feels wrong when their mother does it because there is no sparkle and no smile. It seems sterile in a way, like a necessity, a contract. But Jeremiah can't get her words out of his head.

_Love is about wanting to make someone happy._

He wants to make Jerome happy. He wants Jerome to always be happy, to always smile and laugh and feel good.

He wants to kiss Jerome like adults do.

* * *

"Jerome, why don't we kiss on the lips?", he asks his twin one night, only days after their seventh birthday.

They're laying in their bed, Jeremiah hugging Cayenne with his head resting on Jerome's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat while he threads his fingers through Jeremiah's hair.

Jerome snorts. "What are you talking about? We kiss on the lips all the time." As if to prove his point, he pushes Jeremiah's chin up and presses a sweet peck to his lips. "See?"

Jeremiah's lips tingle and his stomach feels warm and fuzzy, like always when Jerome kisses him. He shakes his head and sits up, gently putting Cayenne on his pillow. "I know, that's not what I meant."

Jerome tilts his head in curiosity, his hands coming up to lightly hold onto Jeremiah's hips when he straddles him. "Then explain, stop being so cynic."

Jeremiah raises an eyebrow. "You mean _cryptic?"_

"I know what I wanted to mean."

Jeremiah giggles. Jerome smirks up at him, lifts his hands and Jeremiah gladly holds his own against them, palm to palm, their fingers intertwining. "Now shoot, four-eyes."

Jeremiah pouts for a second, but then he sighs, already feeling his cheeks heat up. "I mean, why don't...why don't we kiss like...like adults do...", he mumbles, turning his head to the side even though it's dark enough for Jerome not to be able to see his blush.

And for Jeremiah not to be able to see Jerome's blush. "Oh", the older twin whispers, gulping down a lump in his throat that formed in a matter of seconds. "I...I think that's...I think we gotta wait until...until we're actually adults before we...before we can do that..."

Jeremiah's chest tightens painfully at that. "Oh...", he whispers, feeling his eyes sting with tears. He doesn't know what he expected, he doesn't know why he's suddenly crying. But he can't help it.

Jerome is quiet for a long moment, thinking. Then, his face breaks into a smile and he grabs Jeremiah by his hips again, flipping them over. His twin shrieks in surprise and Jerome snickers, parting Jeremiah's legs so he can kneel between them, pinning Jeremiah's wrists to the mattress. "Tell ya what."

Jeremiah just looks up at him and Jerome can make out enough of his face in the darkness to see that his glasses got knocked a little askew and his eyes are blown wide. His legs come up to wrap around Jerome's hips, since there's not really much else he can do with them. The fact that he pulls Jerome closer by doing so is just a bonus. 

"When we're adults", Jerome begins, smirking, a sparkle in his eyes Jeremiah won't be able to see, but Jerome knows it's there. He hopes Miah has it too. "When we're adults, I'll kiss ya like that all the time!"

Jeremiah gasps when Jerome says that, his heart unclenching immediately and seeming to grow twice its size. "Really?", he asks in a shaky voice, grateful when Jerome leans down, pressing their foreheads together. "Really", his twin whispers, nuzzling his nose against Jeremiah's. It makes him giggle and he nuzzles back. "Jerome?"

"What's that?"

"How long till we're adults?"

Jerome sits back at that, humming in thought, his hands drumming an unknown rhythm on Jeremiah's belly. "I dunno...we're seven now, so maybe...when we're fourteen? Seven years?", he muses and Jeremiah groans at that. "That long?", he asks, sitting up as well. Jerome can see his pout and it's absolutely adorable.

"Yeah...that sucks. That's like...a whole _life." _He sighs before he gets an idea, a bright grin forming on his face. "Guess I'll just have to keep cuddling and tickling ya till then!"

Jeremiah barely processes the words before his brother lunges at him. "Wha-? GAH! JERO-OME! Stop it, STOP -!", he begs between helpless laughter, trying to bat Jerome's hands away, but the older twin is stronger than him, tickling all of Jeremiah's most sensitive spots, relishing the way he laughs and squirms.

He decides his brother has suffered enough and flops down next to him with a giggle of his own, wrapping his arms around Jeremiah and pulling him close. "I can't wait till we're fourteen", he whispers, pulling Jeremiah's glasses off his nose and putting them on the nightstand.

Jeremiah is gasping for air, shaking a little but smiling anyway, cuddling into Jerome's chest. "Me too."

* * *

They think about it constantly. They long for it, every time their eyes meet, every time their hands brush. They still cuddle, they still kiss.

But there's an itch that wasn't there before, a _desire._ It grows over the years, builds up until both of them are ready to collapse from trying to hold it in.

And with the itch, with the desire, come changes. Changes that Jeremiah is too young to comprehend but old enough to notice.

For example, Lila doesn't think it's cute anymore when they kiss, or cuddle, or hold hands.

She'll frown at them, the same dark look on her face Uncle Zack had from the very beginning. "You're getting too old for that shit", she'll hiss and Jeremiah finds it ridiculous. How can you grow out of loving your brother, your twin, your other half?

It bothers him. It makes him angry sometimes, sad even. What does she know about love? He thinks about her words from back then and it's infuriating that she doesn't even seem to understand them. Jerome makes him happy, he makes Jerome happy. How can you get too old for that?

Jerome isn't bothered by it in the slightest. On the contrary, he makes a game out of it, the game he's been playing since they were five. The "How to piss off Lila and/or Zack" game.

He'll wrap his arm around Jeremiah's shoulders when Lila wants to talk to him about something, grinning before pressing a loud, over-the-top kiss to his temple, or cheek, or his neck. He'll chase Jeremiah out of the trailer, tackle him to the ground in front of their mother and uncle and shower his face in kisses.

Jeremiah loves it, but he hates the game overall, because Jerome doesn't stop at attacking him with affection. He'll mess with Lila's clothes, ripping them, cutting them, throwing them in the dirt, or he'll slice Uncle Zack's tires, replace his wodka with water, he'll play pranks on the other circus people and give snarky remarks when he's scolded. He seems to actively try and get their mother and uncle to lose their shit.

They're eight years old and Jeremiah has patched his twin up more often than should be necessary. He's becoming an expert at it, he knows about disinfectant and about how he mustn't use it on burns, he knows about concussions and what to look out for.

He knows what Jerome looks like when he's unconscious. He knows the paralyzing fear of being uncertain if he's going to wake up.

They're in the main room of the trailer, which serves as Lila's bedroom and their kitchen. Jeremiah is sitting on the couch, Jerome's head resting in his lap while he threads his trembling fingers through Jerome's hair, experiencing that exact fear.

But Jerome always wakes up. He groans and blinks drowsily, Jeremiah's heart unclenching as he exhales slowly in relief. Once Jerome makes out Jeremiah's pale face hovering above him, he immediately starts to smile. "Ain't that nice, the sun is out", he whispers in a raspy voice and Jeremiah dives down to kiss him, like always when he finally wakes up after being unconscious. 

Their lips will linger a little longer than unusual. Jerome will grip him a little tighter than usual.

They're walking out of the trailer hand in hand, Jerome's legs still a little shaky as they pass Lila and Zack sitting in their usual chairs, drinking, smoking and being disgusting. Although Uncle Zack is already passed out again, snoring loudly. "The fuck you goin'?", Lila slurs, blinking at Jerome suspiciously.

It's Jeremiah who answers. "There's no point in telling you, since they don't serve alcohol there, _mother." _

Lila sucks in a sharp breath, her pupils restless as her intoxicated brain tries to process what her youngest just said. The twins know she won't remember it by the time they get back but Jeremiah truly hopes that maybe, she will this time. 

Jerome looks at him like he just offered him a million dollars. Jeremiah keeps his eyes front, pulling his twin with him by his hand.

Later, when Jeremiah watches with bizarre interest how Jerome dismembers a squirrel with a box cutter (he always uses different blades on different animals to compare them. Jeremiah takes and keeps the notes in his sketchbook for him), the older twin says: "You know I'd do anything for you, Miah. Right?"

Jeremiah blinks, tilting his head in confusion. "Of course I do. Why?"

Jerome shrugs. "Just checkin'." He slices the squirrel's stomach open and Jeremiah notes that he has to apply more pressure than with the kitchen knife.

He'd do anything for Jerome too. He hopes Jerome knows that because the thought of saying it out loud makes him blush.

Jerome notices. He grins at him and presses a peck to his nose. "You're cute when you're embarrassed", he giggles, making Jeremiah blush even darker. "I...I am not!", he protests, squeezing his eyes shut when Jerome nuzzles his face.

"You are. You're the cutest of the cute." Jerome presses his lips to Jeremiah's and the younger twin melts right into it. He wants Jerome to run a hand through his hair like does sometimes, but knows he won't due to the blood on his hands. Jeremiah finds he wouldn't mind.

* * *

He'd do anything for Jerome.

Anything. 

* * *

By the time they're nine years old, the incident with Brandon Simmons seems to be forgotten by most of the circus kids, except maybe Brandon himself. He'll still eye Jerome suspiciously when they pass each other, but he doesn't say a word, neither to him, nor to Jeremiah.

Nobody else seems to care anymore though. Which irritates Jeremiah because now, the girls start showing interest in Jerome.

Jeremiah can't really blame them. After all, Jerome is beautiful. His deep blue eyes seem to hold the entire ocean within them, his ginger curls are of a lighter shade than his own and fluffy to the touch, his freckles are more prominent than Jeremiah's because he gets more sunlight and when he smiles, toothy and genuine, it's like the sun rising after a pitch black night.

Jerome _is_ beautiful. And much to Jeremiah's disapproval, he's no longer the only one who sees that.

Jeremiah always wants to puke at their embarrassing antics. They'll blush and fumble and giggle and sometimes even touch Jerome, brush his shoulder with trembling fingers, making Jeremiah want to bite them right off. He always clutches Jerome's hand a little tighter when one of those annoying girls is around, presses a little closer to him, his eyes a little sharper.

Jerome doesn't pay much attention to the girls. He's very openly annoyed by them actually and in the end, they always run away crying after Jerome pulled their hair, or shoved them in the dirt, or called them a mean name. He'll turn to Jeremiah with an amused grin and Jeremiah just smiles at him, honest and happy. He'll giggle when Jerome kisses his nose.

Jeremiah hates the attention Jerome is getting but he knows he has nothing to worry about.

* * *

Until Cathy came. 

* * *

Cathy is a very pretty girl. She has light brown curls that reach down to her waist and her lips are cherry red. She's ten, a year older than them and little bit taller also. Her eyes are the same color as her hair but they're sad. She always looks like she'd rather be anywhere else.

She came to Haly's circus with her mother. It was a rainy night, one of those where the raindrops patter on the trailer, lulling the twins to sleep as they hold onto each other.

The next morning, Cathy was there. She didn't say much, her eyes as sad as her mother's and the boys know that they didn't choose to come to the circus. No one does, really. Something must have happened, something terrible, so that coming to the circus was their last resort.

Cathy is different from the other girls they've met. She doesn't play much, sticks around her mother a lot, helps her out with cleaning the cages and feeding the animals. She's fascinated with the tigers.

Jeremiah and Jerome find her sitting on top of the cage about a week after she arrived, holding a piece of raw steak through the grid. Taffy eyes it with interest and Taboo tries to reach it several times but it's too far up and he's not much of a jumper. Taffy usually does the jumping through the ring when they're on stage. 

"Aren't you scared?", Jerome asks her, not because _he_ would be but because he assumed that he's the only one who's _not_ scared of getting too close to the tigers. Even Jeremiah doesn't come close to the cage.

Cathy turns her head to look at them. Her eyes are sad, her eyes are always sad. She shrugs and turns away from them again without a word. She drops the piece of meat and watches Taboo slap his paw on it when it lands, leaning in close to sniff at it.

Jeremiah tugs at Jerome's hand but he won't budge. "Jerome, lets go." He tugs harder but Jerome doesn't even seem to hear him.

He keeps staring at Cathy, his eyes sparkling with something that can only be described as awe. It feels like a punch in the gut for Jeremiah. He's never looked at any of the other girls like that.

He's only ever looked at Jeremiah like that. 

He looks up, sees how Cathy's light brown hair looks like molten milk chocolate in the sunlight, and frowns. He feels something grow within his chest, something angry and ugly. He doesn't understand the concept of jealousy yet but he knows that, whatever this feeling is, he hates it.

* * *

Later that day, Jeremiah is in his usual spot behind the trailer, sketchbook and pencil in hand, drawing. He hates it when Jerome has to help Uncle Zack. He hates being without his twin, hates that the lack of his warm, protective presence makes him feel vulnerable and exposed.

He sighs, getting to his feet, not lifting his gaze from his sketchbook. The sun has already begun to set, meaning that Jerome will be back soon. Jeremiah wants to wait for him in one of the chairs outside.

He keeps scribbling away, putting the finishing touches on his drawing while he walks. It's a drawing of Jerome. He really enjoys drawing his brother, he's so expressive. It's fun to experiment with different facial expressions and angles.

He suddenly bumps into something, shrieking a little as the impact causes him to trip. He manages to cushion his own fall with his hands, but his glasses get knocked from his face anyways, the loose pages from his sketchbook and his pencil scatter on the grass.

"I'm sorry", he hears a soft voice tell him before a hand appears in his field of vision, holding out his glasses to him. "Are you okay?"

Jeremiah takes the glasses. "Thank you", he whispers, putting his glasses on to look up at whoever he ran into, "I'm sorry for -!"

His breath catches.

Cathy is looking at him with her beautifully sad eyes, her hand still outstretched, an offer to help him to his feet. Jeremiah's stomach twists into a tight knot. "U-uhm", he tries to say, his voice more tremor than sound, "I...I'm..."

Cathy tilts her head, a light brown curl falling in her face. "Need a hand?", she asks, as if she's trying to explain why her hand is still outstretched. Jeremiah's cheeks heat up and anger bubbles in his chest. _I don't want your help._

"Miah!", he hears suddenly and his chest deflates at the beloved voice. Jerome appears behind Cathy, shoving her aside to get to his twin and Jeremiah almost wants to smile in triumph.

Jerome doesn't think twice and pulls Jeremiah to his feet. "You okay? Hurt anywhere?", he asks, eyes wide in concern as he dusts Jeremiah off. The younger twin shakes his head. "No, Jerome, I'm okay", he promises, closing his eyes with a happy hum when Jerome cups his cheeks and kisses his forehead. "Were you drawing while walking again? I just can't leave ya alone, can I?"

Someone clears their throat and the brothers reluctantly pull away from each other. Cathy has picked up the scattered papers and put them back in Jeremiah's sketchbook, holding it out to him along with his pencil. "Jeremiah, right? Again, sorry for bumping into you. These are good", she says with a small smile.

Jeremiah can't stand it. He takes the offered items, muttering a quiet "Thank you..." before dropping his gaze, unable to look at her any longer.

He misses the way Jerome glares at her, much angrier that she was the cause for Jeremiah's fall than he wants to admit. "Watch where you're going next time", he close-to-growls, wrapping an arm around his twin's shoulders.

Cathy doesn't seem offended. She gives them a last sad smile before walking past them, gently patting Jeremiah's shoulder when she does.

The spot burns and Jeremiah wants to puke.

* * *

After Jerome made sure that Jeremiah indeed wasn't hurt, the boys settled down on top of the trailer as they do so often, watching the stars. Well, Jerome is, anyway. Jeremiah is tucked safely against his chest, listening closely to his twin's heartbeat. He's clutching him a little tighter than usual.

Jerome notices. "What's up, strawberry brain?", he whispers softly, carding his fingers through Jeremiah's soft curls before pressing his face into them, inhaling deeply, taking in the mysterious scent. Jeremiah doesn't know why he smells like strawberries but he doesn't care. He loves the nickname. He loves it because it comes from Jerome.

"What do you think of the new girl?", he asks quietly, afraid of the answer.

"Ya mean Katie? No, Cathy? I dunno", Jerome says with a shrug, nuzzling the top of Jeremiah's head. "Didn't really think about it. She's not as annoying as the other shitstains 'round here, I guess."

Jeremiah's chest tightens. As does Jerome's hold around him. "Why? Did she say somethin' to ya?", he asks, the protective gesture and tone not enough to silence the raging beast within Jeremiah.

He presses his face in Jerome's neck. "She scares me a little", he lies and it's frightening how easy it comes to him. He never lies to Jerome and Jerome always knows immediately on the rare occasions he tries.

Jerome doesn't know this time. He presses his lips to Jeremiah's forehead. "She comes too close to you, I'll straighten her out", he promises and it's then that an idea starts to form in the back of Jeremiah's mind.

It's a horrible idea, a terrible thought to have at all, one he knows will have severe consequences. But desperate times call for desperate measure and Jeremiah is _very_ desperate. 

He hates Cathy.

He wants Cathy to leave again.

* * *

Jeremiah looks at his reflection in the blade. He doesn't look as determined as he wants to feel but he knows that this is the only way.

It's too risky. Jerome has never paid attention to someone else before. It was only a look, sure, but what if that's not the end? Jeremiah is nine but he's not stupid. Cathy is pretty, prettier than him. And more exciting. Jerome would eventually find her more interesting. Jeremiah knows he would. He practically admitted it already.

Jerome would want to kiss _her_ when they're older. And not him. 

The thought alone feels like a knife in his chest. He can't let that happen. He doesn't have a choice. This is the only way.

He inhales deeply, bites down on the towel in his mouth and places his right hand flat on the grass. He frowns and turns the blade around a little in his left hand. It needs to look just right. It needs to look like it was someone else.

His knuckles turn white from how hard he's gripping the handle of the knife. In his head, he counts down.

_Five._

_Four._

_Three._

_Two. _

_One._

He brings the knife down. It rips through his flesh and it hurts so much worse than Jeremiah could've prepared for. His scream thankfully gets muffled by the towel as he cowers, trembling, his sweat-soaked shirt sticking to his body.

He closes his eyes, taking several deep, shaky breaths through his nose. _Focus. This needs to look perfect._

He shifts his grip on the handle and rips it out in the direction opposite from him. He arches his back before falling forward, pressing his forehead to the cool grass. Blood is oozing out of the wound in his hand.

He drops the knife and pulls the towel from his mouth, quickly checking if he got any blood on it, throwing it back into the clothes basket upon seeing that it's clean. Standing on shaky feet, he closes his eyes, focusing on the pain of his pulsating hand, waiting for the adrenaline rush to fade.

The pain starts becoming unbearable. Jeremiah's cheeks burn hot with tears and he wants to scream.

He does._ "JEROME!"_

He starts running, feeling his vision starting to swim. He's dizzy and there's a weird pounding in his head. Bloodloss, probably, or the adrenaline wearing off. It doesn't matter. He keeps running and yelling for his twin. "Jero-ome, Jerome..!"

"Miah!"

His brother appears as he rounds the corner, eyes wide with concern. He's greasy from helping Uncle Zack with fixing his car. His gaze drops to Jeremiah's bleeding hand and any color is drained from his face. Jeremiah sobs and collapses against Jerome's chest. "Jerome, Jerome, Jerome..!"

He feels Jerome rapidly pulling at his shirt, taking it off and wrapping it around Jeremiah's hand. He whimpers but relaxes slightly against his brother's now bare chest, burying his face in his neck. "Baby bro, what happened to your hand? Who did that to you?"

Jerome's voice is trembling but underneath the worry, there is rage. All-consuming, merciless rage. Jeremiah tries to get his mouth to work. "I...I don't kn-know why..! I was, I...I was doing lau-laundry and, and then she showed up and, and she didn't say anything, she just...she grabbed my hand and she had the _knife_ and...her _eyes,_ she was...I, I don't know what I, I _did..!"_

Jerome's hold around him tightens to the point where it hurts. "Who, Miah? _Who?" _He grabs Jeremiah by the shoulders and aligns their foreheads. "I gotta know", he whispers, his nose bumping against Jeremiah's and despite the pain in his hand, it feels so _right._ "Who hurt you, Miah?"

Jeremiah takes a shaky breath. He has his eyes squeezed shut, his body trembling with both pain and anticipation as he opens his mouth to speak once more:

"Cathy." 

* * *

She's having an off day, Cathy realizes as she's making her way towards the tiger cage. The blind man from the trailer next to their tent asked her for help with his chores because the boy that usually helps him (one of the redhead twins. She thinks it's the one without glasses but she's not sure) had to help his uncle with something, and his twin had to help their mother.

She takes a moment to think about the twins. They're a strange pair, that's for sure. Rarely apart and so drawn to each other that it's almost scary. At least Mom thinks so. She says something's iffy about the Valeskas in general and Cathy agrees to some extent. She doesn't like the snake dancer. Her eyes are sharp and her voice too shrill, like a siren's, and her brother is even worse, with his rumbling voice and the smell of booze that accompanies him constantly.

The Valeskas are a family to be cautious around, that is something Cathy is certain of. But the twins are kind of cute. She feels sorry for them. She knows what it's like to be exposed to such a toxic environment at such a young age.

She's a little glad the old fortune teller seems to have taken it upon himself to aid the twins when they need it. Cathy didn't have much of a choice when he asked for help, so she agreed and ended up having several cups of tea with him. It was interesting to say the least. And he seems kind. Cathy can tell there's a shrapnel in his soul, a constant pain that follows him everywhere. Cathy knows how that feels.

She likes the old man and she thinks that maybe, she's starting to like the circus. She knows Mom likes it here, despite her distinct dislike for the Valeskas, but they can just move their tent somewhere else until they can afford a trailer of their own. Then, maybe they can actually start forgetting. Start over.

Cathy frowns as she's approaching the cage before her eyes go wide. The door is unlocked. Did Mom forget? She's usually so focused. Cathy's stomach fills with dread. 

She hurries to the cage. She's definitely going to ask Mom about this. If she stopped taking her pills again...

Cathy shudders at the thought. Thank God Taffy and Taboo aren't the sharpest tools in the shed. They're cuddled up against each other with their backs to the cage, sleeping soundly.

Cathy reaches out for the lock.

She feels a sudden, dull pain in the back of her head and before she even realizes what's happening, her vision goes black. 

* * *

Cathy groans as she slowly starts to become aware of her surroundings. Her head hurts and for some reason, she can't move her arms or legs.

"Nap time's over, doll face."

Cathy knows that voice but her mind is still too fuzzy to remember. She blinks her eyes open and suddenly realizes something cold, wet and squishy was shoved in her mouth. She makes a face and tries to spit it out but it's too big and in too deep, filling her entire mouth.

As her vision clears, she recognizes the figure crouching before her. It's one of the twins.

And he's holding a knife.

Cathy starts to squirm, realizing that her hands are bound behind her back and her feet are taped together. She can feel her heart beating rapidly within her chest.

The boy giggles. It sends a chill down her spine. "It's a real shame, y'know. Besides Miah and me, you were the least boring person in this dump." He spins the knife around a little with a snort. "I mean, not that I cared about you much or anything but still. Too bad you seem to have a death wish."

He giggles again, high-pitched and crooked. But then, abruptly, he cuts himself off and his face goes blank. It's eery. It's terrifying. "You shouldn't have touched my brother, sweetheart."

His brother? Cathy makes a confused sound. The boy tilts his head, his gaze piercing her soul. "Why you'd do somethin' like that to _him_ is beyond me. He's the kindest, sweetest person to exist. Wouldn't harm a fly, well -"

He giggles again. "Except when I want him to. But maybe you get off on that, huh? Maybe that's what this was about. You knew Miah would be an easy target when I'm not around. Maybe you're just one of those puppy-eyed sick fucks that yearns for having power over the powerless. But my point is..."

He suddenly surges forward, gripping Cathy's hair and yanking her head back, holding the knife to to her throat. She doesn't dare to breathe, ice cold fear making her skin prickle. "My point is that he's mine. And nobody - _nobody_ \- touches my things." 

He leans in close, his lips brushing her earlobe._ "Nobody. Hurts. My. Jeremiah."_

He pulls back and by now, Cathy has tears in her eyes. She doesn't know what he's talking about, she doesn't understand what's happening.

And what's even worse, Cathy always thought that she wasn't afraid of dying. She's felt numb inside for years, ever since she was five years old. She's seen too much, felt too much and despite her mother's efforts, she could never undo the damage. Cathy thought she only existed because that's just what people do, they are born, they survive. She thought she wouldn't mind if, one day, she'd just cease to exist. 

But now, feeling the blade against her skin, having this _psycho_ up close, Cathy realizes that she was wrong. She's ten years old. She's a child. She has so much left to experience, _she_ _doesn't want to die._

"I know how much you love the tigers, sooo..."

He tilts the blade, pressing it against the underside of her chin. He wiggles his eyebrows at her, his beautiful blue eyes dancing with madness. Cathy knows that look. She's seen it before. But this is just a _boy._ What could possibly have broken him in like that?

He leans in close enough for his hot breath to hit her face. "Why don'tcha have a closer look?"

* * *

She doesn't scream as much as Jeremiah imagined she would. But maybe that's just because of Taffy's muzzle in her face, muffling her sounds.

They're standing next to the tiger cage hand in hand, hidden behind the transport wagon, safe from any witness that might drop by. But it's the middle the day, everyone is busy and the tiger cage lies far away from the circus camp, on the other side of the big top, for quick access to the animals before a show. 

The piece of raw meat Jerome has stuffed in her mouth has already been devoured. Now, Taffy is gnawing at Cathy's face, her heavy paw crushing the girl's ribcage. Taboo went for the meat in her socks, happily ripping Cathy's flesh off of her bones along with it.

He leans more into Jerome's space, who wraps his arms around him and pulls him close, his lips finding Jeremiah's temple. "She'll never hurt you again", he promises and Jeremiah's grasps his twin's shirt right above his heart. He can't tear his gaze away from the truly horrifying display.

Cathy's screams start to fade soon but Taffy and Taboo are still happily munching on. Jeremiah has to admit, this wasn't what he aimed for and his stomach twists just a little. He feels bad for Cathy. That must've been agonizing till the end.

But then, Jerome gently takes his bandaged hand into his. Mr. Cicero helped them with sowing the wound closed. He didn't ask questions because he never does. Jeremiah is endlessly grateful for that fact.

Jerome presses his lips to the bandage before cupping Jeremiah's cheeks. When their gazes meet, Jeremiah's heart seems to grow twice its size. Jerome looks at him with so much love and devotion that he feels like he's drowning in it.

"I'll never let _anyone_ hurt you again", he promises, his voice fierce and determined. "Anyone tries, they'll regret being born."

He presses their foreheads together, his thumbs rubbing over Jeremiah's cheekbones. "I take care of what's mine."

Jeremiah gasps. He reaches up with his uninjured hand, wrapping trembling fingers around Jerome's wrist, keeping him there, waiting for those wonderful words.

"You're _mine,_ Miah."

Jeremiah feels himself tearing up. He is. He _is._

"And when I said that I'd do anything for you, I _meant_ it." Jerome kisses him and Jeremiah knows that this is true love. Jerome did this for him. Jerome wouldn't do this for anyone _but_ him.

He wraps his arms around Jerome's neck, presses as close to him as he can. They start kissing each other everywhere they can reach, their cheeks, their necks, their closed eyes, their temples, their foreheads.

"You're all that matters to me, Miah. Fuck everyone else", Jerome whispers harshly and Jeremiah sobs, overtaken by emotion. There's so much he wants to say but he doesn't know how. "I love you so much", he croaks and it's lame, it's absolutely embarrassing in comparison to Jerome's words, Jerome's _actions._

But his twin pulls him in closer by his waist, their foreheads pressed together as they breathe each other in. "I know, baby brother and that's more than I deserve."

Before Jeremiah can protest, Jerome's lips find his again. Meanwhile, Cathy is being reduced to a bloody mess of flesh and guts.

* * *

Cathy's mother broke down screaming when she found what's left of her once beautiful, _breathing_ daughter. It's a tragedy. 

Everyone gathers around the tiger cage, alerted by her blood-curdling scream. Some people try to comfort her, others try to shield Cathy's mauled body away from morbidly curious eyes. Most of them just stare. They stare and whisper to each other, _how horrible, the poor girl, the poor mother, but Cathy was always so reckless around the tigers, yes, it was only a matter of time but oh, how terrible it must be, the poor, poor mother._

Jeremiah and Jerome have kept their distance. When they arrive, too far in the back and too short too see what's happening, Jerome tugs on Lila's sleeve. "What's goin' on?", he asks, his tone so honestly confused that Jeremiah can't help being impressed. 

Lila reaches for the lighter in her pocket. "That new girl, Cathy. Seems she snuck in the tiger cage and didn't make it back out", she says nonchalantly with a cigarette between her lips. As she lights it, her eyes land on their intertwined hands and then on Jeremiah's bandaged one.

She frowns. "What happened to your hand?" Before either of the boys can answer, she grabs Jeremiah's wrist harshly, making him whimper a little in pain. She doesn't seem bothered by it and tugs his hand more towards her, inspecting it. "That's a fucking stab wound", she growls, her eyes turning into slits, immediately turning towards Jerome. "Was that you?"

Jeremiah's blood runs cold. _What?_ He opens his mouth to say something but Jerome squeezes his hand tightly. The message is received. _Keep your mouth shut._

"Wanted to see how it feels", he says and Lila immediately backhands him. Jerome's head snaps to the side and he sputters. "You twisted little shit, he's your _brother._ What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?"

She grabs Jerome by his arm harshly and drags him off, the spectacle around the tiger cage completely forgotten. "Wait till your uncle hears about this, you sick fuck!"

Jeremiah is frozen in place as he watches them leave. Jerome looks over his shoulder at him, a dark glint in his eyes. Jeremiah knows why he wants Lila to think it was him. She'd grow suspicious if she found out that it was Cathy.

<strike> _It wasn't Cathy though, was it? _ </strike>

<strike></strike>Jeremiah inhales sharply. He feels sick. His throat is about to burst.

He drops to his knees and vomits all over the grass, his throat burning and the taste of bile making him even more nauseous. He's dizzy. His head hurts.

Behind him, he caught the attention of several people. _Poor Jeremiah,_ he hears them say, _he's so sensitive, such a gentle soul, oh, how this must be getting to him, he's so different from his brother, poor, sweet Jeremiah._

Jeremiah's stomach is empty, so he's just dry heaving now.

* * *

Cathy's death isn't interesting for long. It's terrible but circus life is busy and every single one of them is just a little bit fucked up in the head. A little girl getting eaten by tigers provides them with enough faux sympathy and relentless gossip for about a month or so, then everyone just goes back to minding their own business.

Cathy's mother killed herself a few days after the incident. She slit her wrists and bled out in the small sleeping bag she used to share with her daughter.

Nobody was surprised and no one blamed her. They burned her body, just like they did with what was left of Cathy's and raised their glasses to them _to honor their memory._ As if their deaths weren't just an excuse for them to get drunk off their asses.

Uncle Zack beat Jerome pretty badly for what happened to Jeremiah's hand. It doesn't hurt as much as it did anymore but Jerome insists on bandaging it until he deems it healed enough.

Even now, a month later, his twin still winces at every step, his broken ribs healing very slowly. Jeremiah takes care of him with everything he has, doesn't get more than two or three hours of sleep at night, always ready to aid Jerome with whatever he needs.

Jerome doesn't like it. "Stop feeling so guilty", he murmurs one night, pulling Jeremiah against his chest. He refused to cuddle with his twin until his ribs have fully healed but Jerome finds it ridiculous. "They might have caught on if you told them it was her. This is better. Much better."

Jerome seems strangely unbothered by the whole thing in general. After all, he committed a crime. A severe one at that. He murdered someone. He's nine years old and he _murdered_ someone.

<strike> _Not him. You._ </strike>

Jeremiah flinches. He hates the voice in his head, buries his face in Jerome's neck, hoping to block it out. 

<strike> _Its your fault his ribs are broken._ </strike>

He starts shaking, tears trickling from his tightly closed eyes and on his brother's skin. Jerome just holds him tighter. 

<strike> _Jerome didn't kill that little bitch. You did._ </strike>

"It's okay, baby brother. She deserved it", Jerome whispers into his ear. He honestly thinks _that _is what makes Jeremiah cry and shiver. 

<strike> _You are a liar and a killer._ </strike>

Jeremiah grasps Jerome's shirt, tugging at it, tugging him closer with it. Jerome understands and pulls Jeremiah almost on top of him, wrapping him up in his comforting warmth. He reaches over Jeremiah's body for Cayenne, shoves him in Jeremiah's face. 

His fingers tangle in Jeremiah's hair. "I'd do it again if I had to", he whispers and Jeremiah's heart gives a guilty jolt. He clutches Cayenne tightly while his bandaged hand finds its way to Jerome's hair, not gripping, but holding on, keeping him there. 

<strike> _You'd do it again if you had to._ </strike>

He would.

* * *

_ **In life** _

_ **In love**_

_ **This time I can't afford to lose**_

_ **For one**_

_ **For all**_

_ **I'll do what I have to do**_

_ **You can't understand**_

_ **It's all part of the plan** _

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I HATE MYSELF FOR DOING THIS TO CATHY UGH. You know when OCs are basically your babies? Cathy was definitely my baby, I love her so much, I'm so sorry, sweetie. :((( made my best friend cry with her story by the way. This is probably not something to brag about but I'm going to anyway.
> 
> Also, Cayenne is still best boy. I love my fluffy son.


End file.
